


Bleeding Out

by LensMind



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort/Angst, Guilt, Jean not being a dick for once, M/M, Marco survives, Military Police Jean, Military Police Marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1402324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LensMind/pseuds/LensMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Trost, Jean and a wounded Marco join the Military Police. Work is tough, and the scars are tougher. But they always have each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Out

**Author's Note:**

> From an anon prompt I got on tumblr! Sorry that I've diverted a little from what you asked, but hopefully it's still good!
> 
> [Original prompt: Canonverse where Marco survives, albeit with the lost of his right arm. He stays with Jean in the military and helps out around the base while Jean's gone on missions. Sometimes Jean comes back and he's frustrated so Marco just massages him and kisses him all over??]

Work really took it out of Jean some days. No, make that pretty much every day at the moment. Life in the interior was supposed to be heaven; nothing but security and an easy-going life. So what the hell happened?

“Eren fucking Jaeger’s what happened…” Jean muttered to himself as he left the Military Police Headquarters for the day. He may have been exaggerating a little, but really all Jean’s work revolved around that angry bastard he graduated training with. 

Since splitting up from the rest of the 104th trainees and entering the Military Police, Jean had found himself unable to escape the drama they were causing. Apparently since he knew the group well, that made him the best person to deal with liaison between Eren’s team in the Scouting Legion and the Military Police heads. Of course, that doesn’t mean Eren and the others were being any help in making Jean’s job easier – they were reluctant to give out any information on their current missions, and that meant Jean’s superiors put him through hell every day when he came back with no new info. 

Annie had originally been told to work with him – being one of the two other members of the 104th top 10 to join the Military Police with Jean – but she’d pretty much downright refused to do any of the paperwork, so was transferred to something else. Not that Jean minded; at least he didn’t have to be around her grumpy-ass face all day… though he would kill for some help. 

Tonight, as always, it was way past sundown when he finally made it back into the barracks. Some of the other soldiers were hanging around the communal area playing cards or grabbing a late dinner. Jean didn’t even greet them; he hadn’t really found a friend in any of these soldiers since he got here. Everyone was either naïvely dedicated to the King or just an arrogant bastard wanting to keep away from the Titan action, and Jean despised both those types. 

Ironically, he used to be one of the latter types of solider. Thank god he’d actually grown up…

Nabbing nothing but a bread roll from the kitchen, Jean headed up to his bedroom; desperate to get inside, out of his uniform, and just relax with the only person he actually gave a damn about in the interior. 

As soon as he stepped into his room, he was greeted by a freckled face and a wide smile. 

“Good work today, Jean,” Marco grinned. 

Jean immediately felt his face ease, and all the day’s stress seemed to vanish. “Yeah, you too.”

Not even glancing towards his side of the room, Jean shrugged off his jacket and fell onto Marco’s bed beside his best friend. Marco twisted on the bed so he could look at Jean properly – after all, Jean had a habit of sitting on Marco’s right side, even though that was now classed as his ‘bad side’. 

“When did you finish?” Jean asked as he made quick work of the bread. He scanned Marco up and down; he’d already gotten changed out of his uniform and was now in his casual clothes, the empty right sleeve of his shirt hung loosely by his side. Usually, Jean had to help Marco in and out of the 3DMG straps, since Marco struggled to do it with one hand. Lately, however, Jean was finishing later and later, and he could hardly expect Marco to wait around in his uniform until Jean got home to help. 

The image of Marco standing in the room by himself, struggling with all the belts and straps made Jean’s stomach turn. 

“I’m really late… huh?” Jean said before Marco had even replied to him.

His freckled friend gave the usual smile and immediately picked up on where Jean’s guilt lay today. He said the exact same thing he always did. “It’s ok, Jean.”

Yet, no matter how many times Marco said those words, it never really was fine to Jean. Every day he looked at Marco, the guilt plagued him – it attacked him from all sides, all thoughts, and worked tirelessly to drag Jean down into a pit of self-loathing. He hadn’t been there for Marco. He hadn’t been there when his best friend, the only person who’d ever really cared about him, was alone and on the brink of death. He hadn’t been there when Marco was scared and hurt, or when he was on the ground helpless, waiting for someone to find him. Jean had found him eventually, but he wasn’t the first. Hell, it was probably only chance that he’d been wandering past the place where a pair of soldiers were desperately trying to lift Marco onto a stretcher and get him to a doctor. 

Then what could Jean do? Nothing. He’d just sat there waiting for news. He hadn’t protected Marco, and yet it was Marco who had to bear the scars for Jean’s mistake forever. 

“Jean.” 

There was a quick, dull pain in his forehead as Marco flicked him. Pushing the darker thoughts back, he cocked an eyebrow. “The hell you do that for, Bodt?”

“You should change,” Marco smiled innocently. “You look exhausted.”

“I am exhausted,” Jean said as he kicked off his boots and stood to make a start on his gear. 

Behind him, Marco shuffled back on the bed so he could lean against the wall. Neither felt the need to speak, and the silence that filled the room was actually comforting to the pair of them. As he tossed the clump of leather and metal across to his own bed, Jean turned and toppled face first onto Marco’s bed with a satisfied groan. 

“Never thought I’d miss fighting…” he sighed into the mattress. “But that was a hell of a lot better than sitting around all day. My back is all cramped.”

There was shuffling near him, and he soon felt a palm pressing between his shoulder blades. Turning his head slightly to glance up at Marco sitting cross-legged on the bed beside him, Jean raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

“You’re giving me a massage?” he asked. 

Marco nodded, and the hand began to move in slow circular motions. “You used to beg me for them when we were trainees.”

“Yeah, but can you do it with only one–”

Shit. Jean clamped his mouth tight shut as he realised what words were spewing from his mouth. His chest tightened in panic as he tried to gauge Marco’s reaction from his face. Marco was focusing on Jean’s back, and there was no change in the soft smile on his face. 

“People seem to keep asking me that. Even though they’ve shoved me into the simplest job in the offices. I wasn’t aware two arms and two eyes were fundamental in paper sorting.” Marco’s voice was just as strain-free as his body; how he managed to keep himself so controlled and happy, Jean would never understand. 

The lone hand on his back was indeed working wonders; Marco knew just how much pressure to use, and exactly where it was most needed. His fingers worked magic on the tension in Jean’s back, drawing more than one sigh of satisfaction out of him. 

“Jean…” The pressure lessened, and so Jean dared to glance back up. Marco’s face was no different to before: it appeared as content and calm as always. But something was different. “Please don’t be like everyone else and only see what I’ve lost.”

The moment those words stabbed at his heart, Jean was up on his knees. His face inches from Marco’s, eyes level, he narrowed his eyebrows.

“Of course I look at you and see the lost.”

For a brief moment, Marco’s mask fell, but he quickly corrected himself and plastered on that usual smile – if only a little sadder. “Y-yeah… I guess it’s not really something that you can look passed…”

“I see what I almost lost.” 

This time the mask did fall. Marco stared at Jean; confused and uncertain of what was actually being said. Jean rested a hand against Marco’s cheek; he ran his thumb along the bottom of the eye patch and down the reddened, deformed skin, feeling every imperfection and loving every inch of it. 

“I see how lucky I am. I see how happy I am. I see how blessed I am,” He smiled and lifted his free hand to Marco’s other cheek. Cupping that perfect face in his palms, Jean’s lips widened into a wide grin. “When I look at you I see what I could have lost, and what I didn’t.”

Marco’s eye widened. “You… didn’t…?” 

“I didn’t lose the only person I really love: you, Marco Bodt.”

Marco’s bottom lip vanished as he bit it. The tears welled up in his eye and trailed down to Jean’s hand. His eye shut and his head dipped slightly, like he was trying to hide away from Jean’s stare. He attempted to choke down his sobs and hide the sniffles, but Jean heard and revealed in them. Marco had done nothing but smile since he’d woken up in the hospital; the smile on his face never dropped, never took a break, except when he slept. He’d done everything to keep in just how deep the wounds had cut, and now he was finally letting himself bleed.

“It’s ok, Marco. I’m right here.” 

Though the hiccupped sobs, Marco gave a weak whisper. “I really want to kiss you, right now.”

Jean tried very hard to keep his expression smug, but somehow he couldn’t help it falling into a look of adoration. “Well, aren’t you lucky Jean Kirschtein is willing to let that happen.”

Marco didn’t even have a chance to open his eyes before Jean’s lips pressed against his. Warmth filled them, and Jean tightened his hold on Marco’s cheeks as he pushed himself closer. Briefly, his lips grazed over the strange rough scarring on one end of Marco’s mouth and he felt a painful spark jolt through his body. Pulling away for no more than a second, Jean focused his kisses right there. 

He could feel Marco immediately trying to twist away when he realised what Jean was doing, but Jean held him tight: moving his attack to all the scarred skin on Marco’s face. 

“J-Jean! Not that side!”

When he felt Marco’s hand on his chest trying to push him back, Jean gave in and stopped. He frowned at the reddening face. “I already told you, I’m grateful for it though.”

“For what exactly?” 

“Because this side came back to me too.” 

The blush in Marco’s cheeks deepened further under Jean’s hands, and the palm that was against his chest tightened around his shirt. Marco leant forward, dropping his head into the crook of Jean’s neck and planting one fleeting kiss on the pale skin. Moving his hands to wrap his arms around Marco’s body, Jean held his most precious person in a tight grip that wasn’t going to break any time soon. 

“It’s strange…” Marco mumbled. 

“What?”

“It feels like you’re holding my hand.”

Jean pulled one arm between their bodies, resting his palm over Marco’s fist that was still gripping his shirt so tightly. “You mean like this?”

“No,” There was a smile in Marco’s voice. “I mean my other hand.”

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, if Marco survived Jean would've still gone ahead and joined the Military Police - albeit with a changed outlook on life and very changed priorities *cough*Marco*cough*. So that's why they're not in the Scouting Legion!
> 
> Also, I'm now out of prompts! If anyone has any, please feel free to send me them on my tumblr (freckledbodty). Smut or non-smut is always welcome!


End file.
